Exit 17 B

Some believe that redemption can Only be achieved after everything else Has been lost. But, when you’re driving alone On a dark country road at three A.M., Headlights glaring in front of you like Siren’s eyes as they accentuate the trees, the lampposts, the road signs, and the pavement is pulling you, beckoning you, begging you to drive just a little bit faster and rub it just a little bit hotter— because it too knows the way a pulse can race, exciting the mind when the pain of lost control becomes the joy of unknown freedom—and any obstacle, any bump, any ditch, any deer seems like a targeting magnet that wants to hold you, to calm you, to embrace you in flames as it heals you: when you’re driving on that type of road, you can only help but wonder if a savior comes from the point of impact, the moment when everything explodes and falls to nothing, or from the ability to own up to what you’ve done and build a home beneath the ashes.

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